Not In The Plan
by thegirlwiththedreams
Summary: Toby joins the A-Team post Homecoming. His mission? Make Spencer Hastings, the most guarded of the group, fall in love with him. It seems an easy task, and Toby is ready to watch her pay. But then slowly…he begins to fall in love with her. Struggling between trying to carrying out his duties and also protecting Spencer, everything begins to unravel-and then in a moment, it's over.
1. Chapter 1

"An interesting place to meet. Won't your Manolos get dirty?"

The brunette gives a toss of her hair, as she checks her nails. "Maybe. But these are last season anyway. And this was the best place to meet anyway."

He gives her a pointed look. "Is it because half the town thinks I'm a killer, and you and your _reputation_ wouldn't want to be associated with me?"

She gives an effervescent laugh before she speaks again. "Oh, Toby. Don't be such a drama queen. All is fair in love and war, and in this case it's the latter. You know, who even gives a _shit_ about the first? Feelings are good for nothing, except being bothersome trivialities that stand in the way of the most important thing on this earth-revenge. And here we are-back at the beginning again. War…are you sure you're ready for this? Contrary to popular belief, those bitches aren't clueless. They realize things, put patterns together. _Especially_ Spencer. And that's where you come in."

Toby crosses his arms. "How can I even get her to _like_ me? She hates me the most, out of all of them."

His classmate across from him gives a wry smile. "But that's half the fun, Tobes. Get her to like you, care about you, love you. And when that's said and done, you can break her, the same way her and the rest of Alison's posse did to you. Remember, nothing has changed. You thought it did with Emily, didn't you? Maybe without their queen bee, things would be different. But it wasn't. It _isn't._ They're still convinced you killed her, after all. I know you didn't. But I know you wanted to, just as much as me. This is your chance for revenge, Toby. Do you want to take it or not?"

He closes his eyes, and thinks of Homecoming, not even a week past. He finally thought he had found a friend in Emily, but she had pushed him away with malice, with conviction that he was Ali's killer. They were all the same. They all were.

"I do," he said. "Where do I start?"

From the tote bag strung across her shoulder, she pulls out a neatly-folded black hoodie. "I knew you'd take the job. Here. You'll need this for your duties. And just remember, I'm only a text away. And always use the work number. I'm most…available at it.

And with that, Mona Vanderwaal turns away on her heels as she walks out of the grove of trees, into town.

Toby just sits there, and thinks.

_C'est la guerre._


	2. Chapter 2

2 Weeks Later

So much has changed, and he is not the least bit closer.

He has been put in prison, branded a murderer, and come back to school after all of this. But yet he still cannot get Spencer Hastings to speak a word to him.

Perhaps it was for all of the above reasons, Toby thought wryly to himself.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen her. Strangely enough, after he had come back to Rosewood High he now found himself in over half of his classes with her.

In fact, she was just two desks in front and to the right of him. Maybe it was due to the fact that now she _had_ to be an object of attention for him, but he suddenly noticed many things about her he hadn't before.

To him, Emily had always been the prettiest of the girls. She had unblemished tan skin, and long black hair that fell in loose waves. Her eyes were copper and almond-shaped, and she had a athletically defined figure.

But Spencer...whose appearance he had never paid the slightest mind to, was suddenly something entirely new to him. He noticed her brown hair, that turned nearly golden whenever the sunlight hit it. She was slim and statuesque in a ghostly, airy way that almost made her look unreal. And her eyes, that never looked at him without thinly veiled anger. But sometimes, in class he would see her tilt her head to the side as she started out of the window. It usually took a few minutes, but slowly the worried wrinkles around her eyes would soften, and they would reappear in her cheeks as dimples as she let a smile cross her face. Whenever she did this, he always found himself wondering what she was thinking of. Spencer always seemed preoccupied with something or another, but in those moments he felt like she was somewhere far away, where nothing mattered.

He was startled from his thoughts by the shrill ringing of the bell. It was the last class of the day. Another day of torture was over. Only...it didn't really feel all that much like that. When he had first come back, it certainly did seem that way. But something was brighter these days, and despite him trying to deny it in his mind, this something (no _someone_) was tall and fair and may have had an A in AP French.

Toby shook his head as if there were water in his ears, trying to get rid of the nagging feelings that flew about in his brain. He had to stop, he couldn't feel this way. He could think she was pretty, beautiful even.

But he mustn't care for her. It could cost him everything.


	3. Chapter 3

After being driven home by the Rosewood Police (with the whole of the town watching him while pretending not to) Toby wanted nothing but peace and quiet. He walked softly across the carpet, it was an easy trick to mask his arrival when no one but Jenna was home.

He tiptoed silently, and then closed the door carefully behind him. He turned the lock with a faint click, and he instantly felt a load lift off his shoulders. He was alone, _finally_ where no one could bother him with judging stares and hot resentment.

He shrugged off his backpack, and it fell to the floor with a thud. Unzipping, he pulled out his books. He was actually doing well in his classes, which surprised him. Well, except for French. For some reason, it was evading him. Maybe it was the fact that it was such a beautiful language, full of hope and longing. He hadn't felt that for anything in a long time. The only thing he wanted was to be free of the conviction that he was Ali's murderer, and that was hardly romantic.

It was in that moment when a cold realization fell on him. It was 16th. Dizzying panic nearly knocked him over, but he managed to stumble out of his room and to the kitchen. On the side of the fridge was a calendar with a magnet hanging lopsided upon its center. He moved it, and the magnet fell to the floor with a clatter. And there, he saw it in red lettering. _Fitting for ankle monitor, October 17th._

He felt nausea rise up in him, and without even realizing he ran out the door. The picturesque houses of Rosewood flew past him in warm shades that slowly melted into the same hues of the leaves on the trees.

Toby didn't know how long he ran for, in fact he could barely remember anything. But in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he found himself in the middle of town on Main Street.

Although no one stood within at least six feet of him, the icy stares of the townspeople from afar pierced him in burning agony. He felt a mixture of anger and sadness well up in him. They were all so awful, so polished and put-together and most of all _the same_. For all their disdain of him, he knew that every person in their town had something against Alison DiLaurentis. They were all happy to see her dead, and chiefly, glad that they didn't do it.

Giving them all looks with as much contemption he could muster, he turned on his heel angrily and kept walking until the first exit out of the main road that he found.

As he walked further into the alleyway, he felt the all the strong emotions inside him dissipate and turn into a strong, overpowering ache. Settling himself down gingerly on the road, he let his knees bunch up in front of him and rested his head on the cool brick.

Tears ran down his face without him even realizing it. Only when he felt the light _plop!_ on his lap did he notice. He was so stupid. Crying wouldn't solve anything. Tomorrow, whether he wanted it not, they would attach that stupid blinking and beeping bracelet to his leg. Tomorrow, whether he wanted it or not he would still be judged. And tomorrow wouldn't bring her back, no matter how much he wanted.

He still felt sad, granted. But it carried resignment with it, and for that he was almost proud. No one would affect him in this town anymore, no one would-

His back had been turned from the alley's entrance, and suddenly in that moment he noticed a presence in the air. Someone was there, and by their barely-audible breathing and the lack of shadow in front of him, he guessed they were trying to stay hidden.

Slowly he wheeled around and backed out of the enclosed space. What if they had a knife? Alison may have been loathed at one point or another by each person in the entire population of Rosewood, but despite all of this she was still the queen. And although most people hated the royal's decrees, treason was by no doubt the highest felony in the kingdom. And he had known all along that someone would come along at some point to make him pay the price.

He wouldn't go down without a fight though. They were still too far away to shoot or stab or do whatever the hell it was that they wanted, but if he turned around and sprinted ahead this very moment he would reach them just in time to tackle them before they could pull anything on him.

Bracing himself for whatever would happen next, he spun quickly and ran full-speed ahead, nearly knocking over…

Spencer Hastings.

Her warm chocolate brown eyes were opened wide and her eyelashes blinked as rapidly as his heartbeat. Toby's neck felt like it might snap; there was extra pressure and he had no idea why. His hands left from where they had somehow settled around Spencer's waist, and drawing one palm to his neck he realized what it was. Spencer's hands were wrapped tight around it, and her fingernails had bored into his skin. Toby gave a little cough, and she instantly realized what he meant. She drew her arms away quickly, where they settled into the pockets of her jeans, which he noticed were high-waisted and made tall figure look even more willowy than usual.

"I…" they both started at the same time.

A slightly awkward pause fell upon the two of them. Finally, Spencer spoke. "I'm sorry…I was out for a walk-and I heard someone crying."

"How long have you been here?" he asked. He felt a hot flush settle upon his cheeks.

"Not that long." she said quickly, stumbling slightly over the words as she did. "Umm. I'm just gonna go now. I'm sorry for bothering you…Toby." His name sounded different coming from her. The way she spoke it, there was something about it. Like maybe it wasn't a name that should be treated with automatic contempt and fear.

Spencer walked away, and was about to turn the corner. He could've said nothing, but for some reason he called out after her. "Don't worry about it."

She whirled around, and her eyes searched him. A strand of glossy brown hair fell over her face and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to brush it out of her face. But she was too far away, and in more ways than one.

Toby waited till her figure was nothing more than a spot in the distance, and he started his walk home. If he went through the shortcut, he might bump into her again before she reached home.


End file.
